


Oh! You Pretty Thing!

by blackmountainbones



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bringing Back the Boosh, Crossdressing, Howard Moon is a bottom bitch, Humiliation, I'm a shaman trust me, IS IT SO WRONG?, Lingerie Kink, M/M, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sub Howard, but just a little bit, gentle dom Vince Noir, prompt #2: fashion/clothing, the humiliation makes the praise hotter, this is an excuse to indulge my fantasies of Julian Barratt wearing pretty little knickers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-12 13:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19133149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmountainbones/pseuds/blackmountainbones
Summary: Howard Moon is a man of action, a man's man. He certainly doesn't do things like wear frilly red knickers. But when Vince buys him a pair of fancy little panties, Howard finds he may have to rethink some basic principles....





	Oh! You Pretty Thing!

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [@walkwithursus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkwithursus/pseuds/walkwithursus) for letting me borrow his plotbunny. I just really, really needed to write an Ode to Julian Barratt's Arse in Lingerie. And a shoutout to [@bobskeleton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobSkeleton/pseuds/BobSkeleton) for the beta!
> 
> The title is shamelessly stolen from the David Bowie song, "Oh! You Pretty Things!".

Howard stood under the warm water and sighed. He was still aching a bit from the energetic bumming Vince had given him that morning, but it was a pleasant ache, one he craved.

He stretched, letting the steam work out the worst of the kinks in his back, then reached for the special curly-hair shampoo and conditioner Vince had bought for him, then lathered up with the special soap that Vince said made him smell like Ernest Hemingway on a safari. He wasn’t so sure--to Howard, it mostly smelled like soap--but he had to agree that it did make his skin feel much softer than the cheap soap he usually bought from the Poundland discount store.

Howard let himself linger under the hot shower for a minute more, then turned off the water and towelled himself dry. He wiped the steam from the mirror, and applied the lotion Vince said made his skin less dry and the special oil that Vince said made his moustache soft and extra-kissable, just as Vince had shown him how to do.

Still wearing his robe, Howard made his way from the bathroom to the bedroom he shared with Vince. Just as he’d expected, Vince had laid out his clothes for the day on the double bed the two men shared: a pair of well-draped trousers in a soft brown fabric, a cream cashmere roll-neck, and a blazer printed with pineapples and parrots in subdued shades of olive and orange.

Vince had recently taken to choosing Howard’s clothes for him. Howard had to admit that Vince had an eye for fashion--for the first time in his life, Howard was wearing clothes that fit. As much as Howard insisted that he was not a man who was easily buffetted about on the winds of fashion, wearing clothing that fit properly made a big difference in his appearance as well as his confidence.

More than that, Vince picking out his clothes made Howard feel cared for. Howard had not experienced much care in his life… people tended to be rather careless with him, assuming that his stoic Northern English demeanor and stern clothing choices covered a core of steel. They were wrong. Howard was a very sensitive man, but not many people knew that.

Vince, however, did. He knew Howard better than anybody, especially the parts of himself that he hid from the rest of the world. Like how Howard melted for a bit of praise and fell for anyone who treated him with even the smallest scrap of kindness--but especially how much Howard loved being fucked.

Howard smiled as he pushed his robe off his shoulders and began stepping into his clothes. However, there was one garment that gave him pause--instead of choosing one of Howard’s usual pairs of soft, roomy cotton boxers, Vince had laid out a pair of lacy red knickers for Howard to wear beneath his sensible, subdued outfit.

“Vince!” Howard hollered, taken aback.

This was Vince’s kink, not Howard’s. No sir, Howard Moon was a manly man, a _man’s_ man. The fact that the man for whom he was man was a cross-dressing electro ponce did not matter. Indeed, Howard Moon was not the kind of man who wore women’s knickers, especially not anything so lacy and… red.

Vince popped his head into the room. “What’s wrong, Howard?” he asked, a little too innocently.

“I can’t wear these,” Howard said, wringing the delicate fabric in his hands.

“Don’t do that!” Vince said, alarmed. “That fabric is well delicate, and those were expensive!”

“I’ll look ridiculous! Like a Northern hammer in a lace glove. It’s just not on,” Howard insisted.

“Really?” Vince asked. “I think you’d look great in them.”

Howard blushed. Even though Vince often sprinkled Howard with compliments, Howard still wasn’t used to Vince’s enthusiastic appreciation for his physique. In fact, it confused him more than anything. Next to Vince, who was small and slim and sleek in every way, Howard felt too big, too flabby, just _too much_.

“You think so?” he asked, feeling shy.

“Heck _yes_ ,” Vince said, smiling a bit like a tiger with a choice cut of meat. “Your arse in lace? _Genius_.”

Howard looked down at the pretty little pants, considering.

Vince sighed. “Look, Howard, you don’t have to wear them.” He gazed at Howard, his expression earnest and eager. “I just thought they’d look nice on you.” He stole a cheeky grope of one of Howard’s arse cheeks.

 _“Vince!”_ Howard squealed, a bit too scandalized for a man who spent most evenings having his arse thoroughly groped by his partner.

“Just sayin’,” Vince said, giving Howard a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Waffles sound good for brekkie?”

Howard nodded, and Vince let the door slam behind him as he headed into the kitchen to prepare their sugary breakfast. Internally, Howard grumbled about the fact that Vince never seemed to gain a pound from their sugary breakfasts while Howard’s arse grew ever bigger and more pumpkin-shaped as he stuffed the offending knickers into his underwear drawer, selecting instead a sensible beige plaid pair of boxers to wear beneath his clothes.

 

 

It took a few days for Howard to work up the courage to try them on.

In the meantime, they sat at the top of his drawer, looking out of place amongst all his properly-manly underclothes, mostly shapeless, ancient, fraying boxers in various shades of plaid. Every morning, he’d open his underwear drawer, and see the little red pants staring at him accusingly.

Ever since he and Vince had finally admitted to that they loved and needed each other in a non-platonic way, Vince had done so much to make Howard feel good. Both in and out of bed, he had paid attention to Howard’s reactions and needs and done his best to make sure that Howard was properly cared for. The fancy pants seemed like such a small, insignificant thing that Howard could do for Vince to make _him_ feel good, though Howard was a little unsure why Vince would get off on seeing him wearing the lacy knickers.

Before he could think about it too much about it, Howard snatched the knickers from the drawer and pulled them up his legs. The delicate fabric of the knickers could barely contain Howard’s generously-proportioned penis and balls; they were tight, but they didn’t feel _bad_. They were soft and silky, not scratchy as Howard had feared they would be, and cradled his bits gently; Howard was surprised to realize that they made him feel almost safe.

He took a moment to gaze at himself in Vince’s full-length mirror. Perhaps Vince had been right--they certainly enhanced his assets, both in front and in back. And red _was_ a nice color on him… the red of the pants contrasted nicely with his pale skin and made him look a bit flushed, like he’d recently been ravaged….

Maybe, Howard thought as he continued dressing in the outfit Vince had laid out for him, Vince had been right. He _did_ look good in lacy little pants.

 

 

Fully dressed, Howard made his way down to the Nabootique, where Vince was lovingly styling the selection of hand-crafted wigs that Naboo had started selling.

“What took you so long?” Vince asked, a little impatiently.

Howard could feel the blood rushing into his cheeks, acutely aware of the way that the little pants stretched as he moved. “N-nothing,” he stammered. “I was just, um, getting dressed.”

“Really?” Vince said skeptically. “You never take that long to get dressed…” He left the rest of his sentence hang unfinished between them.

Howard blushed harder.

“Oh, Howard,” Vince teased gently, “you weren’t being _naughty_ , were you?”

“N-no,” Howard protested. “I was--”

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” Vince said with a knowing smile. “I _want_ to know if you’re being naughty. I want you to tell me all about it, so’s I can--”

“I wasn’t!” Howard insisted. “I was, um…”

Vince stood with one hand on his hip. Even though he was shorter than Howard, even with his platforms, he seemed to tower over the taller man. “Well, if you weren’t being naughty, what were you doing?”

“I’mwearingthelittleredpants,” Howard mumbled, the words coming out in an unintelligible rush.

“What?” Vince asked. “I couldn’t understand you.”

“I said,” Howard hissed in a stage whisper, “I’m wearing the little red pants you gave me.”

Vince’s expression brightened into a big white smile that would have looked goofy if it hadn’t been quite so predatory. “Really?”

Howard nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“C’mere,” Vince ordered. “Lemme have a feel, yeah?”

Obediently, Howard walked over to Vince, who stuck his hands down the back of Howard’s trousers to cop a feel of his arse in the tight, silky fabric. “Oh, Howard,” Vince moaned, his words tickling the sensitive shell of Howard’s ear in a way that made the whole of Howard’s body tingle, “you _are_ wearing them…”

Just then, Naboo wandered into the shop to catch Vince with his hands down Howard’s trousers.

“Eww, gross,” the tiny shaman said, reaching into his robes for an elixir that would erase his memory of the disturbing moment. “It’s bad enough that you two are shagging all over the apartment, but now you’re shagging on the job too? No wonder we never have any customers. They’re all to grossed out by your wanton displays of affection to actually come inside the shop, much less _buy_ anything.”

Guiltily, Vince and Howard broke apart. For the rest of the day, however, Vince found ways to sneak a grope or a peek at Howard’s little red knickers, working his hands past Howard’s waistband or pushing the back of his trousers down just enough to expose his lacy pants while whispering something filthy in Howard’s ear.

It was no surprise to either man that they failed to make any money that day, yet neither one was too concerned about what Naboo would say when he discovered this fact. After all, they had more important things to think about--like how the moment the workday was done, Vince was going to be bumming Howard silly.

 

 

As soon as they locked up the Nabootique, Vince turned to chase Howard up the stairs, pinching and slapping at his arse and making Howard squeal. He wasted no time in dragging Howard into the bedroom, either.

Still fully clothed in his Joan Jett jumpsuit, Vince sat down on the bed. Howard tried to join him on the bed, but Vince prevented him from doing so. “C’mon Howard, give us a look, yeah?” he asked. He bit his lip, one sharp inscisior glinting dangerously, which made something in Howard’s stomach flip with something like anticipation.

Howard, feeling a little self-conscious, could feel his cheeks going pink _again_. But he was powerless to deny Vince, especially when he asked so sweetly, so he turned to face the full length mirror so Vince could get a good look at both his arse and his groin as he stripped. First, he removed his jacket and sweater, then he bent to take off his shoes. Finally, he undid the button at his waistband, then his zipper, and let his trousers pool at his feet.

“Oh, Howard,” Vince said breathlessly, then reached out a hand to stroke Howard’s flank softly. “Your arse looks so pretty and plump in these knickers.” His hand snaked forward to reach forward and between Howard’s legs to caress Howard’s prick, which was already starting to swell and push against the tight red fabric, distorting the lacy pattern as it filled with blood.

His rapidly-stiffening erection was held against his stomach by the tight pants, and Howard shivered a bit at the novel sensation as Vince fondled him through the silky fabric. His hand was warm against the cool silk, and Howard whimpered a bit, suddenly desperate for Vince to touch him.

Vince leaned forward and dropped a kiss between the dimples at the small of Howard’s back. “Christy, you have no idea how _hot_ you are like this, do you?” he asked. Howard’s prick jumped with another surge of blood, and he felt Vince’s lips pull into a soft smile where they were pressed against his skin. “God, I could just look at you like this forever,” Vince murmured.

He pulled Howard, who was still standing in front of him, a bit closer. “Spread your legs,” he commanded in a soft tone that belied the power his words had over Howard.

In his eagerness to oblige, Howard almost tripped, having forgotten that he had never removed his trousers from where they pooled around his ankles. Vince steadied him by grabbing his hips in his hands as Howard regained his balance and kicked his trousers off. Then, he pushed the silky fabric aside to expose Howard’s hole without removing the knickers, and fell to his knees behind where Howard stood.

Howard could feel Vince’s breath on the back of his thighs, and knew immediately what Vince intended to do. This was one of Howard’s favorite things, but Vince rarely obliged him, saving the act for when Howard had been especially good, or had especially pleased him.

He licked a stripe along Howard’s exposed arsecheek. “Please,” Howard whined, and Vince gave his cheek a gentle bite before prying Howard’s arsecheeks apart to bury his face between them.

Howard’s knees immediately felt week as Vince’s tongue laved up and down his arsecrack, then gently licked circles around his anus. His tongue stiffened, prodding at the tightly-furled orifice, waiting for Howard to relax before forming his tongue into a point and pressing inside. The sensation made Howard moan. His legs trembled and he felt woozy with pleasure, unsure that he would be able to hold himself upright much longer as Vince’s long tongue gently slurped and sucked at his hole. Every so often, Vince would hum or mumble something into Howard’s arse, making him quiver.

Just before Howard was sure that he would collapse from the sensory overload, Vince took pity on him, leading him to the bed. Despite the fact that his lips were red and slick, Vince was fully clothed and perfectly coiffured, and the contrast between his appearance and Howard’s trembling, wrecked dishabille made Howard feel flustered.

But Vince, as always, seemed to know exactly what Howard needed. He lay Howard down on their shared bed, cooing comforting nonsense, as he stroked his small, wide hands up and down Howard’s body, until the tremors that wracked him stilled. “That’s a good boy,” Vince murmured.

Then he reached down to caress Howard’s prick, which was fully erect and leaking into the red knickers, leaving a dark spot of slick on the lacy fabric. “Your prick looks so big in your little knickers, doesn’t it, Howard?”

Howard moaned his agreement, making Vince chuckle softly. After a few more gentle strokes through the damp fabric, Vince pushed the little lacy knickers down Howard’s hips, just enough to expose his bits, but he did not remove them completely. He reached over to the bedside table to grab the lube, then slicked his hand and began stroking Howard’s cock in earnest.

“Christy, your prick’s so big,” Vince said, stroking Howard’s erection in his slippery hand. His prick looked especially large in Vince’s small hand as he coaxed Howard’s foreskin to back to expose the pouting head, which was swollen and already dripping wet. “You could really fuck someone up with a prick like yours. But you’d rather _get_ fucked than fuck someone with your big, beautiful prick, wouldn’t you?” he teased as he continued to wank Howard.

Howard shivered. Vince’s words made him even harder, if that was possible. He bucked up into Vince’s slippery fist, desperately seeking more friction. He was a mass of conflicting desires--he wanted to come right now, in Vince’s small, tight fist; he wanted Vince to suck him, rim him, fuck him, anything, anything to make him come--

“You like that, don’t you?” Vince chuckled. “You like when I tell you that you don’t know how to use your big, beautiful prick properly.”

Howard let out a choked moan that almost sounded like a _yes_ but wasn’t quite _._

“Say it!” Vince hissed, stroking Howard harder and faster, a little bit cruel. “Tell me you’d rather get fucked than use your big prick to fuck _me_.”

Howard thrashed on the sheets, stubbornly silent, refusing, at least for now, to speak the humiliating words Vince was commanding him to repeat. His resistance made Vince smirk, an expression that Howard knew from experience would only cause Howard to debase himself even further, but it only served to feed into Howard’s pleasure.

“I know how to make you say it,” Vince warned with a whisper that was almost sinister. He tightened his grip and increased the pace of his strokes, wanking Howard until precum leaked from his slit and trickled down his shaft, a sure sign that he was almost ready to come. Just as Howard felt his orgasm approaching, Vince reached down and grabbed Howard’s balls, twisting until Howard cried for mercy. His big blue eyes sparked with mischief. “You know what you need to do.”

Finally, Howard could take no more--he gave in. “Fuck, Vince, you know I don’t want to fuck you with my--my big p-prick. I want your cock in my arse--I want you to, to f-fuck _me--”_

At long last, Vince took pity on the bigger man. He shucked his kit, getting fully naked in seconds, then rolled Howard onto his stomach. Even though Howard was several inches taller and outweighed Vince by a couple of stone, Vince was easily able to push Howard into the exact position in which he wanted him--on his belly, his back bowed, his arse up for easy access. In this, as in everything, Howard found himself unable to resist Vince’s demands, unspoken as they might be.

His eyes screwed shut, Howard heard the soft _snicking_ sound of their bottle of lube being opened, and then Vince’s wide wet fingers were reaching between his legs, seeking out his arsehole, which was still sensitive from the thorough rimming Vince had given him earlier.

Vince prepared him quickly yet thoroughly, giving him two fingers right away. Howard’s body accepted him easily, and he spread his fingers wide to stretch Howard’s hole, not bothering to coax him open slowly. He didn’t bother with a third, just slicked his own prick and pressed inside with one swift thrust.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Vince murmured, sucking a kiss onto the base of Howard’s neck as he waited for Howard’s body to adjust to the girth of his cock. It never took long--Howard was too hungry for it to wait. “You always feel so good for me, Howard…”

Howard buried his face into the duvet to stifle his moan while flexing his muscles to draw Vince’s cock more deeply inside without moving, but Vince grabbed him by the hair and turned his head to the side so he could no longer hide his reactions to being fucked. “Let me hear you, Howard. Let me hear how much you like it when I fuck you…”

And Howard arched his back, lifted his head, and _keened._ Vince fucked him harder, angling down in a way that hit Howard’s prostate directly, drawing ever-louder moans from his lover, who was too blinded by pleasure to feel embarrassed about the noises he was making.

It wasn’t often that Howard lost his inhibitions. He was a Northern man, self-contained, holding himself close and rarely showing any vulnerability. Yet when Vince was fucking him like this, he could not think of anything other than the stretch and burn of Vince’s cock inside him, the weight of Vince’s body pressing his own into the mattress, how full and protected he felt beneath him.

Howard wished he could feel this forever. But it was over too soon--it was always over too soon. Vince’s hips began to snap into Howard’s at a punishing pace, pressing on his prostate until Howard howled and came all over the duvet without either of them having to touch his penis. Only a moment later, Vince gave a final deep thrust, and the wet heat of his orgasm spilled inside Howard so he collapsed and let the weight of his body drape over Howard’s back, both men sweaty and breathing hard.

They lay together for a few moments, just long enough until their heartbeats slowed and their breath quieted. Then Vince carefully pulled out of Howard’s body, a dribble of semen and lube smearing wetly against Howard’s thighs, which Howard did not mind nearly as much as he thought he should have. Instead, Howard revelled in the feel of Vince’s semen leaking slowly from his stretched hole, feeling a strange, soft kind of contentment that made his whole body buzz in the way that only happened after the most intense of bummings.

Howard felt the mattress dip as Vince settled down beside him, one hand sneaking down to gently snap the waistband of the red pants that were still clinging to Howard’s thighs. “Genius,” Vince proclaimed, turning to Howard with a big smile that went all the way up to his big, bright blue eyes.

Howard, still too fucked out to move or even speak, was inclined to agree.

**Author's Note:**

> Poundland is the name of an actual discount store in England. It's Howard's favorite place to shop. 
> 
> The Muse has certainly been working overtime during Bringing Back the Boosh! Let her know you appreciate her hard work by leaving kudos and comments.


End file.
